


Admitted

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 1800's mental insane asylum, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, F/F, F/M, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Nudity, Rape/Non-con Elements, Running Away, Torture, electro shock therapy, extreme torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your head is let go and it drops, the hair torn out of it's usual braided bun in frays and loose ends. Scratch kneels in front of you, and you glare from your hanging head. The arm still bleeds beside you.<br/>“Latula,”He starts, as usual. You've been informed that's a manipulation tactic. Always saying your name before a sentence, when he wants you to tell him something.”How do you feel?”<br/>“Dizzy,”You cough out, a moan of pain working it's way out of your voicebox and through your esophagus at the same time. “Like I want to die again.”He stands up at that, and shit, you've said the wrong thing. He's going to do something worse to you now. You start to shake your head, at first only lightly, then more violently as you see him walk over to his tray of instruments. You scream for Terezi, hoping that somehow, 12 miles away, she will hear you and come rushing to your side, as she always has.<br/>You don't remember much after that, mostly because you don't want to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abacination

**Author's Note:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_methods_of_torture#Psychological_torture_methods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a beta for this story. Someone who knows a lot about the mental institutions of the late 1800's, ships Mitula, and would like to offer ideas to help further the story plotline. Preferably someone who has a skype, and someone's who first language is english. (mine isn't.) 
> 
> Oh, and if you have suggestions for the story, they're always welcome.
> 
> Note to self for later chapters: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_methods_of_torture#Psychological_torture_methods

Women were often deemed crazy if they so much as thought, let alone attempted suicide. Suddenly, when you thought the people the people who cared about you leave (except for your little sister, who verbally fought your father and told him what they would do to you,) and throw you without a second glance at the hospital, pretty much all hope deserts you. When you've heard the stories about those places, you wonder if you'll ever get out again, (alive.)  
The rules were simple. Miss Rosa (the group counselor) told you not to ever:

  1. Leave your room unless told that you may leave.
  2. Don't hide pills under the mattress. They already know that some children do that.
  3. Dont get into fights with the other adolescents.
  4. Also, Never, ever, EVER try to escape.
  5. Tell the doctor what you  _really_ feel. (Even if he might try to bleed you.)



Dont do this, don't try that. It was always one thing the women couldn't do, but the men that were there could? It made her angry to even think about it.

* * *

 

The day your Fiance Kankri threw you (as well as your father had,) into the hospital, you thought that he still loved you, just as he had told you multiple times before. He said he would be back. Weeks later, you found out from Terezi, in a hesitant, small voice. You had hardly heard her use that voice, because she was usually loud, and only when she was trying to make things easier on you or another person. She told you he was with someone else, happily engaged. You wanted that. You were supposed to have that. You didn't eat or sleep later that night. How could you?

  
Of course, when you were admitted, you were told you were a manic depressed teenager. Now, the list can be counted on both of your hands with false accusations you know are not true. Depression, lesbian, bi-polar. Resilient and stubborn, Manic behavior. The list rolls on, even when you had done things (like kissed a boy to prove that you are, in fact, not a lesbian.) to prove you are anything but.  
You kept count of all the days that had gone by. You used a rock, one small enough that you found in the courtyard. No one noticed it when you hid it in the corset. It acted as chalk, as you scraped it's rough edges against the concrete walls of the cold hospital. Thirty-one days while you were there, and your first roommate arrived. Karkat, his name was. (They didn't have enough room, so usually they often paired females with males in the wards. It was odd.)  
You cared a lot about him in those short days he was there. You talked constantly about your lives, about anything and everything with him. He talked about his father, how he was a preacher. He often defended the poor and helpless, how they were “Opressed by the queen.”

You even kissed him. His lips were soft, and his hands were, too, although it wasn't your first time touching them. Your heart fluttered like a fairy's wing, and you felt like you couldn't breathe. You requested to push your bed closer to his (although you only said to push the bed closer to the wall,) and you would spend nights until the sun rose talking with him. He was nice, and he understood you. Sadly, that was short lived. You don't know what happened. Perhaps Scratch came to take him, but next thing you know like a snap in the fabric of time, he was taken away from your clutches of warm embraces and tender hugs, kisses and whispered promises. You had trouble stomaching any food, and had trouble sleeping. Often nightmares overcome your dreams, plagued with horror terrors and cruel things. Unlike before (with Karkat,) you woke up alone, shivering. Unlike before, You ate alone, crying. The things you saw in the night terrors woke you up often, dreams of how Karkat could have left you. He would have been hung. He could have been bled to death. He could have jumped. He could have cut himself to death. What they would have done to him, you can't understand anymore. You could have sworn a week ago you saw him on a gurney, pale an unconscious. You shut out everyone from talking to you, only wishing that death would come sooner, rather than later.  
Today was the 70th day, according to your makeshift calender. As customary, the women were to come outside of their rooms to have their hair in a bun or something, just as long as it wasn't down. (as was customary for a woman of your age. You had pierced ears as well, justifying that you were all-the-more ready to be handed off and married. You shivered at the thought. Your father..thinking back, was more than willing to hand you off. Especially to Kankri, that bastard.

The white scratchy clothing they usually gave the patients was especially uncomfortable today, considering how you slept. (which was none at all.) Even though you were used to it, it might have been the fact that they haven't “washed you” in about a week. They had odd cleaning schedules for the patients, which ought to be more consistent, in your opinion. It was silly. Back home, you'd be washed by the servants- Aradia and Sollux- at least every other day, if not every day. They were nice, and Sollux only washed your hair while Aradia helped you wash your body, back, and any other area that was harder for you to get. Aradia and Sollux were with your family since before you were born. Thinking on it, you wonder how Terezi is, dealing with all of this attention. . .She was never one to be the center of everything.  
As you stare at the wall in your look-alike cell-room, reminiscing on the forgotten past, your door clangs open, and in walk two men followed by Doctor Scratch. No one knows why he is called that. Everyone thinks it's strange, and no one likes him, so everyone makes fun of it. You've heard all of the things he does, especially when he comes in with two men. Everyone knows what that means. You immediately stand up, shaking your head. The men come towards you, and you corner yourself on the opposite wall to Doctor Scratch. H He chides at you, shaking his round, oblique white face. That ominous, stupid, smug face.  
The two men grab you by the arm and forcibly pull you towards him. You bite at the one mans hands- whom you note that his name is Leer. He's big and strong, obviously, with black hair and giant muscles. You've never seen a man with such muscles. . . The other on the opposite -Equius, one of your aquantinces,- isn't as big. They look a lot alike.  
Oblivious to how strong they are, you thrash anyway. You don't want to go “upstairs.” Doc scratch looks at you like an object, a feeling that you hate. Kankri never looked at you that way. You guess he was just good at acting.  
“Latula,” He begins, turning around sharply, motioning for the men to follow with you suit. “We need to do some things upstairs.”There's that word you hate.”It would be in your best interest for you to not fight it.”

* * *

 

All you can remember of the upstairs is how badly you wanted to get free and forget.It's the first time he's touched you, and you hate the feeling. After talking with other females in the ward, you've dicovered this has happened to them as well. But when he starts slicing at your arm to get you to bleed into the drip , you scream. You scream for Terezi and Karkat, wailing their names in anguish. Feeling dizzy, your head lulls, but is pulled up sharply by Equius. You vaguely recall that he looks a bit..distraught and sorrowful, maybe a little remorse was shown, as well. You stare at the slash in your arm with a dulled face, choosing to nullify the pain and stare. Maybe if you stare the pain will leave your arm.  
Doc Scratch pulls the tube from your arm and you scream again. (you swear that this man has no sense of remorse. He continues hurting even after the pain.) a sharp, shrill noise in the top floor rings throughout the large, spacious room. You realize it's the dumbells, or the other machines, and you idly wonder, that maybe, they've soundproofed it- but that's ridiculous. This isn't a very wealthy hospital. Why would it be soundproofed? You shake your head in a desperate measure to get free from equius, but from his eyes you just look like a drunken old maid.  
Your head is let go and it drops, the hair torn out of it's usual braided bun in frays and loose ends. Scratch kneels in front of you, and you glare from your hanging head. The arm still bleeds beside you.  
“Latula,”He starts, as usual. You've been informed that's a manipulation tactic. Always saying your name before a sentence, when he wants you to tell him something.”How do you feel?”  
“Dizzy,”You cough out, a moan of pain working it's way out of your voicebox and through your esophagus at the same time. “Like I want to die again.”He stands up at that, and shit, you've said the wrong thing. You can't see his face, but Equius stiffens, and he knows that he's going to do something worse to you now. You start to shake your head, at first only lightly, then more violently as you see him walk over to his tray of instruments. You scream for Terezi, hoping somehow, 12 miles away she will hear you and come rushing to your side as she always has.  
You don't remember much after that, mostly because you don't want to.

You won't.

* * *

 

For a few moments, you forget you were at Oak fur Mental. You felt as if though you were waking up as usual, with Aradia coming to greet you at exactly 8 am. She would serve you breakfast, and Sollux would come in and help pick your clothing. (you had a soft spot for Aradia, and they always figured that you would be more likely to snap at Sollux than Aradia in the morning.)

  
As soon as you open your eyes, the incandescent glow of the light filtering from the broken, stained glass window immediately hits your pale, sunken face, and you shut your eyes again, you roll over, groan, more to yourself than anything.  
On your wall, it marks 76 days. You're begining to lose hope that someone will come, cure your loneliness and depression, and that would be the end-all, be-all.  
 **77** and you go back upstairs. This time you're asked questions.  
 **78** and they decide you're a lesbian.  
 **79** and they decide you're bipolar.  
 **80** and you hit Scratch, earning time in isolation. (but keeping to your overall room. They don't feed you for three days. _ _The holy trinity_ , _you bitterly bark back a laugh _. R_ _eligion isn't helping me now._ No one is.)  
 **81** and they bleed you. Again. This time, you remember what they do in the upstairs room. You wish you didn't remember.

They start out with forcing pills down your throat, and then screaming at you. The words are file, repugnant, and stale in your ear-drums. By now, you've bene used to the screaming- You've have so many people scream and yell at you, it's amazing you're still able to laugh at some jokes that Equius makes.

They clean you up, which makes you feel somewhat more comfortable. The cold water on your dirty, oily skin is comforting to you, and Equius only responds with, “We're cleaning you for a reason.” You still feel comfortable, even after that forboding response. You shrug it off easily.

The sea-sponges are coated with something strangely akin to a gel-like substance. You wonder why, but after the screaming, you don't care. (you should.) After that, there are electrodes placed on each of your temples, both left and right. There's one over your heart that you note idly. You're strapped into a strange chair, both cuffed with wires at your wrists, and at your feet. They're cuffed tightly and unpleasantly. You're confused, wondering why, after they'd given you a sponge bath. By then you don't realize Scratch fiddling with a machine with a bunch of knobs and colors all over it. When you actually do realize, you've become numb with the pain of electrocution. The shocks rip through you at what feels like the speed of light. Your fingertips begin to buzz with a white-noise-like feeling, and your head rings with uncertainty and a throbbing ache. You can't see, so you suppose that's good. But you can hear. You can hear everything, and now it seems more clear than before the electrocution started.

The slow, hard whir of the hand-drill makes your heart pound and your head spin. The other two shove pills down your throat before he starts lifting your hair, whispering softly, encouraging you to relax and this was only going to hurt /a lot./ Oh, how he was right. He had never been more right since the day you got there. The excrutiating laceration jostled through the bone of your body, threatening to slow what time even was further than it had. Your vision blurrs and burns black. You don't wake up for a while after that, and when you do, you've been abacinated. You can't see anything. The gentle howl outside lulls your pain, if only for a little while. The tree branches crunch and brush against eachother,the bark creating a gentle scraping sound as the leaves rustle endlessly. It was peace for a while, and then it was hell.

They unstrapped you, and you thought you were done. Oh, no. They undressed you completely, abashed and alone and cold before them. You felt violated and used. How could a father and a lover subject someone they care so much to this? He was disgusting. A man who felt he had so much power that he could use you as a toy. It's times like these where you kind of forget he's a monster- he touches you gently along your sides, the white, bony structure of his knuckles triturating against the bare flesh, the bones of your hips, and your ribcage. His face is soft, but It has a certain look to it that makes you shiver in a horrid sheen of sweat and disgust. He's only looking at you like an object, as a toy. You are nothing more than a female- an object, to be used. He leans in and you grimace, but all he does is kiss your neck the same he did the first time. By tilting your face away, he grins and only grabs your cheeks with his forefinger and thumb, pushing the cheeks together closer so he can get a better look at you.He pushes himself onto you and starts kissing you all over. It makes you want to throwup bile and disgusting chunks of the poison they call food here. He continues to touch you for hours before he finally lets you to yourself, dressing yourself. You contemplate jumping out the window, that maybe, the only salvation was to fly.

 **82.** You learn of your new roommate, Mituna. Equius tells you all about him, and he isn't of the same economical status as you, which solicited a curious look from you. You've never actually been in close contact with someone in a lower stature, and it makes you wonder how he'll act. You hope he's nice, at least. Some people used to act all mean towards you just because of the way you looked- but when you returned the favor and gave them something to help them like a schilling of gold or a pretty decent meal, they suddenly became your best friend. It was a bit petty, but if it helped people restore their faith. . . You might as well. His name is pretty, and it reminds you of fish. Equius informs you that he indeed does not like fish, or tuna, for that exact reason.

  
  


 


	2. Beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone would say you two were truly a match- for one one of you was with the other, everyone said the both of you could light up a room far brighter than any candle, or lantern. his smile would make your heart flutter like the wings of a monarch, light and feathery and soft. His hearty laugh made your stomach churn and do backflips and pirouettes around. His rare kiss made you forget where you were or what was happening.
> 
> "He made you happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still looking for a beta if anyone wants to offer. Most of my friends become a little uneasy at the thought of torture or the likes so i'm still a bit awkward about asking on fb.  
> "heeey, anyone like reading and proofing and helping with torture?" no. just... no.

He keeps you locked up in that solitary room, Scratch and his assistants who you've now grown to despise, and beats you until you have bruises and sprains, a broken nose that is definitely not going to set right, and a heart of hatred for men alike. All men are like this to you, and always have been. Even though it's hard for you to think, with pain always clouding your forethoughts, you're pretty certain that downstairs people are beginning to wonder where you are. You're beginning to wonder where you are, too.

When Scratch is finished beating you for the hour, he leaves you tied up against the chair you've drank and slept in for weeks now. Equius informs you that it has indeed been about a week and a half, and that as usual you're over-dramatizing about again. The thought infuriates you, especially the fact that he's saying that  _you_ are the one who is being overdramatic? The thought would have made you laugh, but with the emotions beat out of you, it's currently not at the top of your list to laugh. Nothing really is. You just focus on getting through the torture and beatings, rape and abuse that you've dealt with for days. Sometimes, he'll leave you alone for hours on end. That's when you really have any sort of solitude- any form of peace. You try getting up sometimes from the chair, trying to move it, or at least you did int he beginning. You found out that it was bolted to the floor. There goes any ideas of escaping this hell, you think bitterly. 

When he comes back, you wonder idly and sickly if something is wrong, because instead of going straight for you, he goes straight for the Zahaks, and talks briefly with them. You prepare for the worst, but nothing comes, and you almost cry out of relief, because maybe, just maybe he is letting you go. He does! He unties the leather cuffs that were strapped to your now raw, red, and swollen joints at your ankles and wrists, and you only look up with a confused, empty face. You don't get up, you don't move. You just stare, until he clears his throat and looks away, turning around. 

"We've had enough session time for the month," Scratch embarks, his white, old, oblong face and wiry thin white hairs, and perfectly white suit faces away from you. You lull your head to the side, eyes lidded and mouth open from thirst. "I'm sending you back to the ward. Hopefully this was enough to teach you a lesson about being. . . So disgusting about your mis-attraction towards women." The voice is disgusted and uncharacteristically quiet, it would concern you, but you're so hazed over right now that it makes you dizzy. You vaguely remember Equius and Leer carrying you back to your room instead of on a stretcher or in a wheelchair, like the usual. You don't remember ever falling asleep.

* * *

_A giggle erupts from your mouth as you look onward through the orchard that Kankri's family owns. It was absolutely beautiful this time of year, and Kankri wanted to go out and walk with you. Agreeing as usual, you follow along, arms linked and smiling blissfully at each other. Everyone would say you two were truly a match- for one one of you was with the other, everyone said the both of you could light up a room far brighter than any candle, or lantern. his smile would make your heart flutter like the wings of a monarch, light and feathery and soft. His hearty laugh made your stomach churn and do backflips and pirouettes around. His rare kiss made you forget where you were or what was happening._

_He made you happy._

_He twists his arm out of the crook of yours and wraps it around your waist, pulling you and all of your high-end classy dress into his side, as he grips your other hand with his in between the both of you. He looks at you with such love and admiration it makes your heart stop all of a sudden. But only the dream stops. Whatever he said dissipates into darkness and fire, and the world has turned darker than you've ever seen, even at night. His face contorts into that of anger and vexation and you feel your gut twist unpleasantly about your innards. The feeling in your stomach is sickening, a feeling that makes you want to throw up. your clothes suddenly become less poofy and they become white, where they were a vibrant blue an red just a moment ago. Kankri is dressed in all black, his white gloves still on, as usual. He never seems to take them off, and it worries you. You would never say, but it worries you. But now he takes them off, and you see who he actually is for once. He's evil and tormented, and saying that he's doing this for the good of everyone. You don't know what's happening, so you begin running. Men chase after you with ropes, and they're all dressed in white. The dress you're in, all white lace of it is too long, and you trip briefly, giving enough time for the grizzly men to catch up with you._

_Your father is with Kankri, on-looking the men tie your hands as you thrash. You call out to him, to get his attention, but he only glances, and you recognize the look on his face. It's one you know too well when Terezi takes something from your room ans she wont tell you, but you already know. I_ _t's guilt._

_They have you on your knees, and you bite the mans hand hard enough to make it bleed. He pulls his hand back, causing you to rip his flesh. He should have known better than that. All animals should._

_"Witch!" They scream. All sorts of  confusing thoughts go through your head as you're dragged back to the carriage that has been waiting for you ever since you got outside. It's the carriage to your hell and your end. Calling out for your father once again as you're dragged into the carraige and pushed down, he ignores you with his head hung and Kankri looking triumphant. Your heart shatters, and you no longer light up the room as bright as before. How can you make something shine once it's been shattered? There will still be shadows, and there will still be stains. The scorches will still be there on the glass as the fire burns, and will continue to be there the next day. You were new, but now, all you are is used. All you are is a **tool.**_

You wake up just in time, with a shocking start to your system as a quiet knock on the wall above your head sounds. Rosa is there above you, with a worried and careful expression. She has a food tray behind her, and already you've noticed that you've been patched up with bandages and medicines. She sits down on your bed and pets your hair, but you don't cry. You never cry anymore. all of your tears have dried and shriveled and can't come back with how emotionally raw you've made yourself. But now you're calloused, and worn, and you know that crying is weakness.  _Emotions. . . are weakness._

She leaves the food tray with you,but you're too weak to eat- you can barely lift your arms with all the muscle activity that  _he_ wore out. The elctro-shock therapy made your muscles limp and unresponsive, but you can at least move your fingers, so you assume that's good. You lay there, staring at the caulked ceiling for a little while longer- hanging onto the fleeting feeling in your mind of consciousness. You've been slipping in and out, and you think nothing of it. You can't think at all. Dreams are all that protect you at the moment. 

 

 


	4. Authors note

I'm going to be re-writing the entire fanfiction, so if anyone would like to pitch any ideas that they have for me, i'd be open to have them! Second off, i am focusing more on my studies than anything but I will still be working on this! Third, I would like to have an artist draw snippets from the chapters I create. It isn't a must right now, considering i'm just re-writing it right now. If you'd like to check out my deviantart or tumblr in the meantime, my DA is Lottedraven and my Tumblr is christofercringlemisha.tumblr.com See you all when I re-upload " _Admitted!"_


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